


Lucky Charm

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Consensual Underage Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One Shot, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Protective Original Percival Graves, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Shower Sex, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Vampire Original Percival Graves, credence crying during sex, fright night meets american beauty, graves rescuing bb credence, graves shushing during sex, thats also becoming a trope, vampire allure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 21:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9567734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Graves lives next to a boy with sad eyes and pink lips, and normally, he wouldn't even bother with a mere mortal, but after seeing that the boy's mother beats him, he decides to step in, and ensure it never happens again.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whileyoustillcan (L_M_Biggs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_M_Biggs/gifts).



> yeah the title is a pun.
> 
> absolutely inspired by the american beauty au idea and mixed with a dash of fright night bc reasons.
> 
> http://sozdanie-gryazi-eternal.tumblr.com/post/156729153860/

 

* * *

 

Graves could smell the call of his blood before the boy’s innocence, as he was lying flat beneath his ford, the only thing he owned that looked as old as he felt most days, and he shifted slightly, emerging out into the dusk of the evening, to find the boy from next door staring at him from behind the fence, white and picket of course.

“Hello little one… are you lost?”

“No sir. M’not supposed to speak to you. But I wondered what you were doing.”

Graves sat up and leaned back against the fender, twirling the wrench in his free hand,

“Just some repairs. Why aren’t you supposed to talk to me?”

Besides the obvious.

“You’re a stranger. Ma says strangers are evil, if they don’t attend church, and I’ve never seen you at Sunday worship.”

Graves smiled, and his mind raced.

What an odd world view to have, and to impose it on such a child?

“You’d be right about that, I don’t go to church. But I’m hardly a stranger if you tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine?”

The boy blinked, and then nodded.

Graves hadn’t stepped foot inside a church, or been _able_ to, in almost three centuries, but when he got to his feet and walked over to the dark haired and pale skinned being currently draped over the fence, he wondered maybe if he’d done something right after all in a past life to be gifted with such an angel.

“I’m Credence, sir.”

Graves took his hand, and shook it, gentle, feeling every individual bone shifting beneath his soft skin, and the warmth of his blood almost sang to him.

“Graves.  No need for ‘sirs’ around here. Delighted to meet you Credence.”

The boy gulped and stared as he held his hand a bit longer than was probably typical, before dropping it and moving back towards the car.

He smelled intoxicating.

“I better get back.”

“Sure thing. You run along now little one, take care of yourself.”

He could still smell fresh blood, but he couldn’t see any visible injuries on the boy, it struck a chord with Graves, giving him a rare pang of curious sympathy.

As the boy vanished back inside his own house, Graves stared after him, wondering why he hadn’t noticed him before.

*

Ma had said the man next door was a heathen. Heathens could not be saved, they could only burn.

But he hadn’t been rude or mocking when he’d spoken to Credence, so maybe Ma could be mistaken about him. Credence knew that he shouldn’t have said that to her.

She held out her hand and he passed over his belt, as she made him count out ten lashes, while reciting the Ten Commandments. Afterwards, he fell asleep in a haze of pain.

He tried to keep from limping to the bus the next morning and when he got back home, it was overcast. Before he got to the fence latch, he saw the man who lived next door outside with his truck again, that day just was just washing it, not halfway beneath it. Credence wondered if had been sunnier if the hose spray would have made rainbows, like he’d seen happen once when he was little.

With his real parents.

Besides a curious brown leather bracelet on his right wrist, the man was naked from the waist up, and Credence supposed it was to prevent getting his shirt wet from the spray, or he’d just overheated from the manual labor.

Either way, he found himself staring, frozen in his path of walking to the front door from the sidewalk, one hand resting on the handle to the latch.

It was how he got caught, as the man moved around to rinse the roof of the truck off.

He waved with his free hand, and Credence gulped and looked away instantly, forcibly making his feet start to move again, so he could get safely inside the house, and not be tempted to go over and say hello, or get a closer look at any of the man’s bare skin.

Even in the overcast sunshine, he was very pale, and Credence wondered what he did for work that kept him inside most of the day.

He could offer him something, like an orange, strong in vitamins he might be lacking.

It was just a gift, just a neighborly thing to do, so he hurried into the kitchen, knowing ma wouldn’t be home until later, and plucked one of the fruits out of the bowl on the table, before running to drop off his schoolbag in his room, and returning outside.

The man was now drying off his truck, and the hose had long been put away, but he still hadn’t put his shirt back on.

“Hi.”

Credence walked all the way to the line of the fence, and put on a smile, as best he could. His back was still paining him, and he was just glad it hadn’t been his hands, or he wouldn’t be able to lean on the wood, or even hold the orange.

“Credence, dear one, what have you got there?”

He blinked, as the man stepped towards him, and his eyes faltered from where he had planned to just look at guilt free, the man’s face, and instead glazed down his bare chest, drinking in the perfect muscles and the light smattering of hair that seemed so dark in comparison to his pale skin.

Credence gulped.

“I brought you this. I thought maybe you were hungry from working so hard.”

The man tilted his head, and then reached out a hand, stopping just short of crossing the line of the fence,

“Aren’t you sweet?”

For some reason, Credence couldn’t think straight, and couldn’t even remember what the man had said his name was, he was still lost in thought, drowning in foreign sensations as he tried to yank his eyes back up to the man’s face, and when he did, it was just as their hands touched.

His eyes were dark, so dark, almost black, as if his pupils had swallowed up the rest of his irises, and Credence wondered if he had brown eyes or maybe green ones normally.

“I’m sorry.”

He pulled his hand back like he’d been burned, as he swore that he’d felt the lingering touch of a finger on the back of it.

“Whatever for?”

The man was still watching him curiously, and Credence didn’t know suddenly. Why _was_ he apologizing?

“How has your day been?”

Small talk was easy, it was how he socialized with everyone at church, and refrained from begging anyone to help him get away from ma. _That_ would be rude.

“Quite productive, thank you. How was yours little one?”

Credence blinked, and when his eyes focused, he realized the man was holding the orange and rubbing his thumb over the skin, a seemingly pointless gesture, but it captured his attention.

“I uh, just had school.”

“Are you thirsty? I made some iced tea earlier. It should be chilled enough by now to drink.”

“Um…”

The millions of reasons why he should say no, thank you, and that he had homework he needed to be doing all fled from his mind and died in his throat as the man’s dark gaze ensnared him again, and Credence found himself nodding.

“Excellent. Come on over.”

*

Just a hint, just a nudge, was more than enough to make him comfortable, to not feel overly drowsy or drugged and the _lure_ was released, floating around the boy like some kind of shimmering cloud.

Graves watched as the boy moved around and left behind the impenetrable fortress that was his home, and crossed over into his yard, walking only a little sluggishly.

Exhaustion mingled with the pain of recovering from his latest beating, Graves guessed.

Graves had accidentally witnessed the entire thing, through his office window, which overlooked the gap between his and the Barebone house, and it had taken all of his centuries long developed personal control to refrain from burning the place down, after rescuing the boy of course, and letting the horrible woman die inside.

Subtly would be a much safer bet.

He knew that.

Once the boy was inside his house, staring at the décor, politely complimenting his choices of paintings and wall colors, Graves went to the kitchen to pour them both a glass of the tea. He had actually made it the night before, to distract himself from doing anything stupid, and it was probably a bit too strong for anyone but himself, made with half a dozen tea bags for two gallons of water.

“Here you go.” He set down the orange which the boy had brought him and passed over the glass.

The boy’s eyes widened slightly and he smiled,

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Technically it _was_ his, but that wasn’t very important.

He could still smell the scent of fresh drawn blood lingering on the boy, and he hoped another dash of _lure_ would mask it further, and help ease the pain.

The last thing he wanted was for the boy to be uncomfortable or worried.

Graves knew he had about an hour and a half before the boy would need to be back, judging on the schedule he’d observed over the last week for his ‘mother.’

That was more than enough time.

“Sir, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Graves stepped closer, to where the boy was standing straight backed beside the counter, his glass half empty, and he put a hand on the marble, about two inches away from the boy’s, but he didn’t flinch or move.

“You’ve just done that.”

The boy’s face flushed prettily, and he dropped his eyes from Graves’ own.

“Sorry… I guess, I mean… well.”

“I’m just teasing you, little one. What do you want to know?”

Graves couldn’t stop himself from touching him on the back of his hand, the boy was just so soft looking, so delicate, and his skin did feel as Graves suspected, silky and warm, blood pumping just below the surface, singing to him in its sweetness, even with the bitter taint of the _lure_.

“What do you do for work?”

The words came out in a low hush, and Graves knew that his presence was starting to be effective, even without the outside help.

“Currently, I provide security for a club in downtown.”

He dragged his fingers higher on the boy’s hand, past his wrist, up his arm, and he could feel goose bumps erupting where he’d already been.

“Oh.”

“Does that intrigue you, or disturb you?”

“Ma says clubs are dens of iniquity.”

Graves hummed, his hand now almost at the boy’s neck, feeling a shiver run through his slender body,

“Is that right? I thought the entire world was already lost, so what’s the harm in a little fun?”

The boy gulped, and his throat moved delicately with the movement, making Graves’ unnecessary heart skip a beat.

He couldn’t wait to have those perfect lips around his cock.

“I guess… yeah.”

“Tell me, what do you like to do for fun?”

His fingers were now idly stroking over the boy’s neck, and he wasn’t even looking at Graves, his gaze unfocused and dazed, pointed somewhere over his left shoulder.

“I uh, enjoy reading passages in the bible about God’s love.”

Graves clicked his tongue,

“Sounds boring if you ask me. Haven’t you ever wanted to experience it for real?”

At that, the boy’s gaze snapped back to his, just as his thumb rubbed against the boy’s jaw line.

“I, I don’t know what you mean sir.”

“Oh… I think you _do_ , you’re just afraid to say it. Let me show you.”

He ducked down and pressed his mouth against those plush lips, and felt the boy shudder against him, as his hand tightened around the back of his neck, fingers sliding through short curls on the boy’s nape.

The boy tasted like sunshine and honey, a deadly addictive combination, and Graves wondered just how much better it would be without having to use the _lure_ , but even so, he could feel the boy fighting it, straining to get free, as if he had lightning trapped beneath his skin, itching and sparking, threatening to set him alight.

“Sir! What…”

The boy’s hands were flat on his bare chest, warmth seeping into his cooler skin, and Graves fought the urge to groan at the feel. His eyes were glazed, darkened slightly, by Graves reaching in and setting loose his untapped potential for desire, and seconds later the boy was melting into his arms.

“What did I tell you? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

He scooped the boy into his arms with little effort, and moved to set him up on the kitchen island, stepping in between his legs, which automatically wrapped around his waist, as the boy fought for breath.

“This is… strange.”

“But not bad?”

He shook his head, and Graves smiled.

“Good. Do you want to touch me more? I’ve seen you looking… don’t be afraid.”

Small hands with slim fingers were back on his chest almost immediately, and luckily he was far too blissed out to notice the fact that there was a significant difference in their bodies chemistries, beyond temperature, to his faint heartbeat, and the fact he didn’t need to regularly draw breath, as if Credence was almost drunk on just skin to skin contact.

“Do you mind if I take this off?”

His fingers were already curling under the hem of the boy’s shirt, and he just mindlessly nodded.

It was gently set on the counter behind them within a half second, and the boy just blinked at him, realizing dazedly that they were now both shirtless.

“Sorry I’m so ugly.”

He mumbled, and Graves frowned,

“What are you talking about? You’re perfect.”

He was a head shorter than Graves, certainly, but that would change as he grew, and it wasn’t until the boy shifted where he sat, curving so that he could see the boy’s back, that he understood his fears.

Scars littered over the expanse of his bare skin, and some were still bloody and looked like they might have been caused the night before.

Instantly the anger inside of Graves flared to life, threatening to eclipse his desire to simply treat the boy to a short time of relief and happiness, to say nothing of the temptation of so much blood above the surface of his skin.

Graves fisted his hands at his sides and tried to count to ten in his head, willing away anything thoughts that might lead to actions that would end up scaring the boy.

“I’m…”

“Shh-hh. Hush now little one. I’m going to prove to you just how beautiful you are.”

Graves moved his finger from the boy’s lips to drag down his chest, relishing how deliciously warm he felt, and then he put a hand to the boy’s pants, two fingers slipping under the waistband to tease the curve of his hipbone, and he jumped.

“Sir… what are you doing?”

“Something I dare say you haven’t.”

Graves didn’t want to ravish him in the kitchen however, so he shifted his other hand below the boy’s backside, and held him to his body, almost running up the stairs to his bedroom, before carefully depositing him on the bed.

He suspected it wouldn’t be easy to help him relax without a touch more help, so he dosed him with another bit of _lure_ , and watched as the boy’s skin flushed, and he started undoing his own pants.

Perfect.

Graves shucked off his jeans in one swift move, and crawled over the boy’s body the second he’d wrestled free from his boxers.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Like I’ve got a fever, sir.”

Good, good, that he could help with.

“Here?”

He put a hand to the boy’s face, cupping his cheek, and he marveled at the way he nuzzled into the touch, without any prompting.

“Yes.”

He sighed, and Graves smirked, but the boy didn’t see, as his eyes had fluttered closed. Pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead, he started to shift his hand down the length of the boy’s body again, intent on teasing him until he fairly begged.

“Here?”

Grasping at one of the boy’s hips, the meatiest part of his body, besides his cute little ass, the boy nodded.

“Yes.”

He moved his lips over the boy’s neck, resisting the siren’s call of his blood, _right there_ , ripe for the taking, and instead lightly nipped at the skin, and licked over his collarbone, making the boy arch his back and cry out, whether from the mere sensation or the lure acting accordingly to heighten the feeling, and he smirked into the boy’s chest.

“Here?”

His hand drifted over to graze against the boy’s cock, hard and weeping against his thigh and that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, finally urging the boy into action, as small hands grappled at his hair, his neck, none too gently pushing him closer, until he was almost able to kiss the tip,

“Please!”

He hummed against the boy’s navel, before granting him a bit of relief, and swiping his tongue down the entire length of his cock, until the taste of his pre come was exploding over his taste buds.

It wasn’t quite as luscious as he knew his blood would be, but almost.

“I can’t, I don’t know…”

He was babbling mindlessly, drowning in the _lure_ induced coma of pleasure, and Graves fought the urge to smirk.

“Do you want to come for me, dear one?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“Oh, so polite.”

He jerked his hand over the boy, once, twice, and then he was spilling into his palm, over his chest, and his entire body trembled as Graves continued his hold, not stopping until the fingers on his neck were what could be called painful, if he’d been a mere mortal.

He licked off his hand, and he could see tears leaking from the boy’s lust darkened eyes.

“What are you doing?”

He gasped out, and Graves did smirk now,

“Ensuring I never forget how delicious you are, sweet thing.”

“Could I do that?”

Graves cocked a brow at him, and then shifted over to fall on his back,

“Be my guest.”

The _lure_ was still in effect, but he decided he didn’t mind at all, the dreamy way the boy looked at him, and the dedicated manner he began to mimic the kiss he’d originally been granted, lips parting easily enough for Graves to lick inside his mouth, and rip a groan from the boy’s throat.

He broke the kiss a little too soon for Graves’ liking, but only so he could move down and begin torturing him, with butterfly light kisses of his mouth and slight licks of his tongue on Graves’ chest, his mouth an intense warmth, and hands a slow tease, going everywhere but where he needed them most.

When the boy finally finished treating him like a human lollipop and reached down to graze over his cock, Graves thrust his hips up, barely stopping himself in time before bucking the boy right off the bed.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Graves chuckled low in his throat, and looked down to find the boy staring, wide eyed up at him, completely ignoring his cock bobbing right beside his hand splayed over his stomach.

“No little one. You didn’t hurt me, but if you don’t touch me soon, I might start to hurt.”

“Okay.”

Whether it was the _lure_ or genuine curiosity, the boy did take a moment or two to stare at Graves’ cock, before actively stroking over it with a warm hand, and then put his mouth to it, tentative, slow, and Graves thought that yes, there was a proper way to torture a vampire, and the boy was a master at it.

But he didn’t want to come that way, he wanted to be inside the boy, if he could manage it, so after a few minutes of that, he snapped his fingers and the boy stopped almost instantly, looking up at him with his eyes wide, probably worried he’d done something wrong.

“Come here.”

He followed the command perfectly, crawling up the length of Graves’ body, until the boy’s slim hips were straddling his abs, and he smiled up at the boy,

“I want to fuck you, is that okay?”

The boy looked confused for a moment, before the _lure_ took back over and his cheeks flushed, but he nodded.

Normally Graves was sure he’d have gotten even more flustered and probably asked for the gory details, but the loosened inhibitions helped skip right over that, to the good stuff.

“Get on your back and hold your knees up to your chest.”

God.

Graves almost wished he had the time to simply prepare the boy with his mouth, take hours to help him relax and eat him out until he was a sobbing writhing mess, but that would have to wait for another time, without so much _lure_ in his system, it would certainly be much more fun.

Instead he merely snagged the jar of lube he had in his bedside table and smeared some onto his fingers, before slicking up his cock and returning to the boy, hovering over him to lean in and kiss him, rough and messy, distracting him just enough so that he could start to work him open with two fingers.

The boy still arched into the touch and seemed to beg for more without a single word, just a nip of teeth on Graves’ bottom lip, so he did, and it took about half the time it normally would have before he was a bit out of breath, and begging for him to please fuck him.

“I’m right here. Hold on to me if you need to, little one.”

“Okay.”

He was crying, but it was barely a tear from each eye, and his lips were reddened from the kissing. Graves had never seen a more entrancing mortal in his entire existence, or at least in the last century.

When he pushed inside, slowly and careful, it felt so dangerously good, it was exceedingly tempting to want to kiss further down, to bite his neck and just take a little sip while the boy was so high and out of his normal senses.

Eventually as he built up a steady rhythm, the boy’s hands did shift from gripping his own legs to Graves’ shoulders, and his fingers might have left marks if he hadn’t been nearly indestructible.

He almost wished the boy _could_ properly mark him as he would like to.

But he didn’t want the boy to get further beatings thanks to his carelessness, so he refrained, just barely.

When Graves finally came, blissfully continuing to fuck into the boy through his climax, he resorted to putting a new crack in the headboard, and luckily the boy was too lost to notice, his own cock already back to full hardness against his stomach, and Graves decided that being human and so young definitely had some advantages.

Vampire stamina was remarkable, but not quite the same.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

The boy just nodded mindlessly, and Graves smiled, pulling back slowly and kissing down his chest and stomach, teasingly avoiding making contact with the boy’s cock, in favor of putting his mouth to good use on the boy’s hole, where his come was slowly leaking out.

“Please… please!”

He barely nudged his tongue inside, and reached up to grant the boy a single stroke of a hand over the boy’s cock, somewhat tightly gripping him and rubbing over the head of it, and then he was quivering, coming from just that, and perhaps the final vestiges of the _lure_ overriding his mental blocks to orgasm.

“Oh sweet thing, you’re so sensitive… I love it.”

When he moved back up to look at the boy, he was nuzzling his cheek into the pillow, cheeks still flushed, and lips parted, as if trying to just remember to breathe.

“How was that… hmm?”

He put a hand to the boy’s face, pushing back the messy bangs that had fallen onto his forehead and he practically hummed,

“It was so nice… thank you sir.”

“Oh don’t thank me. It was my pleasure, remember?”

He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the boy’s lips, and he knew that it was almost time to help him back home, lest he get in any more trouble.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

*

Credence woke up with a start, and glanced over at the clock to see it was about four in the morning. His pants felt sticky and he could feel his heart racing. He’d had one of _those_ dreams, and all he could remember was pale skin, dark eyebrows and eyes, and a deep voice calling him sweet and tasty.

He shivered, and fisted his hands under the blankets to keep from reaching up and touching himself. It would only make things worse, and he’d have more to atone for later.

Ma hadn’t beaten him that night, and he couldn’t remember why. He swore he’d come home early, seen the man next door washing his car, and then gone in to do his homework and then make dinner, but something about it seemed rather fuzzy, shiny, as if he was forgetting something.

He slept again on and off throughout the rest of the early morning, and when his alarm went off, he fairly jumped out of bed and into the shower, feeling relieved to be able to wash away the remaining evidence of his sinful dreams.

At breakfast ma was a bit short, and she told him he better not talk to the man next door again, as she suspected him of doing the devil’s work, why else did he never come outside during the daytime?

Credence didn’t dare correct her, to tell her that he’d seen the man when he got home from school.

That afternoon when he returned home, the sun was shining high in the sky and he felt the warmth kissing his skin as he walked to get the mail, before returning inside the house, blissfully alone to start finishing his homework.

As he was sorting through the pile of letters, he realized one of them was addressed to the man next door, with an elegant script, it read ‘ _Percival Graves,’_ and Credence felt a shiver of something he couldn’t identify run through him. Needless to say he decided to just drop everything and immediately walked over to the man’s house, praying that since his truck was in the driveway that he would be home.

He didn’t know why he wanted to say hello, rather than just tucking the letter into the mail slot of the door and leaving properly, but he did.

He’d barely lifted a hand to knock, when the door swung inward to reveal the handsome man, clad in shirt as dark as his eyes, and jeans that seemed to cling tightly to his legs. Credence snapped his eyes back up to the man’s face, but it was too late, he’d been caught ogling him.

His cheeks flamed, and he held out the letter in a shaky hand,

“We accidentally got this delivered to our mailbox.”

The man grinned at him, white teeth almost gleaming in the sunlight that didn’t quite touch the doorframe.

“Thank you. Very thoughtful of you to bring it to me.”

“Well it could be a bill, and I didn’t want you to get in any trouble for not having it.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a bit protective of me, hmm?”

The man was still smiling, so most likely teasing him, but Credence couldn’t help blushing harder as the faint memories of his dream flickered through his mind, and he knew there was no one else in his life that the mysterious figure could have been but _him._

“Uh, just trying to be a proper servant of the Lord, Mister Graves.”

“Ah, so you know my name now, do you?”

The man sounded amused, and Credence was a bit confused. He’d known the man’s name before but called him ‘sir’ merely out of respect, even if Ma seemed to think he was an adult who didn’t deserve such a thing.

“Yes. Of course.”

“Promise me you won’t make an excuse to come over next time? You’re always welcome here.”

Credence found himself nodding, even as he knew that he shouldn’t even be there at all, blatantly disobeying ma’s orders to indulge his own secret desires, to just have a friend, to have someone to talk to who wouldn’t judge or think of him as a wicked person.

“All right, well you take care now, okay?”

He nodded again, and started retreating, curling into himself, hunching his shoulders and turning to go back to his own house, the fog of dread looming over him, always.

He didn’t see the way the man looked after him, sympathy coloring over the amused gaze, and he ended up staring at a blank page that was supposed to be his math homework for nearly an hour, trying to figure out why exactly he couldn’t focus.

Maybe it was because every time he closed his eyes all he saw was the man, putting his hands on Credence’s body, but not with intent to harm, but heal, wondering what it would be like to know the gentle touch of someone who didn’t find pleasure in dolling out punishments for menial things.

How he wished that he’d been adopted by someone kind and caring as the man next door seemed to be.

 _He could run_.

The thought came to him every other month, and it was always shot down with the obvious objections. He had no money, no possessions to sell, nothing to offer the world. There was nothing special about his skinny and scarred body, and he couldn’t even bring himself to tell anyone what ma did, for fear she would find out, and just kill him for it.

Then he really wouldn’t matter.

It almost made him want to do it first, to beat her to the punch, and he considered just how angry she would be that her source of frustration had been taken from her without her permission.

The thought made him smile.

*

It truly was unfortunate that the high dose of _lure_ he’d needed to give the boy meant that he forget their entire encounter, or might have simply written it off as a dream, but when he showed up on Graves’ doorstep the next day, he couldn’t stop his heart from jumping back to life for a moment inside his chest, as he considered the possibility maybe he _hadn’t_ forgotten completely, until the boy’s gaze met his own without barely a glimmer of recognition of any of _that_.

He suspected that if the boy had remembered, he would not have been able to meet Graves’ eyes, and instead might have dissolved into a flushed mess of limbs.

But he’d merely been coming over in a neighborly capacity, passing along a piece of misplaced mail, and Graves sighed, and thanked him, half tempted to invite him in and do it all again, but he restrained himself, just barely.

The woman hadn’t beaten the boy the night before, so as a result there was no enticing scent of blood clinging to him that day, merely the hint of it, the whisper of suggestion as it flowed under his skin through his veins, and Graves could resist.

An hour or so later, he caught an increasingly strong scent of blood, and he frowned, stepping towards the window through which he could see to the living room of the boy’s house, but there was nothing there. No activity like before.

The woman hadn’t even gotten home yet, he would have heard the slamming of the car door and then the house in quick succession.

Perhaps the boy had gotten hurt, and was bleeding by accident.

What if he wasn’t able to call for help?

What if he was in danger?

Graves paced around his room for a few precious moments, before making the executive decision. He didn’t need an invitation if he ended up destroying what made the house a dwelling.

It was risky, but he was desperate, the thought of the boy in trouble overriding all rational thoughts in his mind, and he sprung into action.

He cut through his garage and snagged a shovel, bee lining for the power line he could hear humming below the surface of the earth, and with just a few precise digs into the dirt, he hit the line. He shoved harder, until he felt a spark and heard a pop, and the lights inside the house went out.

Crossing over the fence now, he felt nothing, not even a hint of pain or force pushing him away, so he pressed on, moving to kick open the front door, calling out,

“Credence? Are you here?”

He heard a muffled sob, and then was taking the stairs so fast his vision blurred, kicking down another door to almost be bowled backwards by the strength of the scent of blood.

“Credence… what happened?”

The boy was shaking, curled into a ball sitting in the empty bathtub, tears streaming down his face, shirtless and holding his wrist in his other hand.

“I don’t think I did it right.”

Blood was flowing down his arm from a cut which he’d clearly self administered, and Graves inhaled sharply, before regretting it instantly. His vision almost whited out from the overwhelming desire to _taste, to feed,_ and he barely shook himself out of it in time.

“What were you thinking?”

He ripped off his own shirt and strode over to wrap it tightly around the boy’s wrist, ignoring the gasp of pain that left his lips.

Surely the cut itself had hurt more. Repairing it would be easy enough, but he could not let the boy stay there, he shuddered to think what the woman would do if she thought he’d tried to kill himself.

Her holy book had many choice words to say about people who did that.

“I wanted to be free.”

Graves sighed, and carefully pulled the boy to his feet, before picking him up, tucking his head against his shoulder,

“Come on.”

He carried him all the way over to his own house and didn’t stop moving until he reached his own bathroom, setting him down atop the closed lid of the toilet, before peeling off his now soaked shirt from the boy’s arm.

“God. You know how long it takes to bleed out from a shitty cut like this?”

He dropped to his knees before the boy, not really expecting an answer, but he pulled the boy’s wrist with the still oozing cut to his mouth, and summoned all of his will power, before licking over it, gentle as he could be.

The boy still cried out from the pain of anything grazing against the open wound, but the sound halted a moment later as his eyes widened, locked onto his arm, where the skin began to knit back into itself, and in moments, all that remained was a tiny pink scar.

“How… did you do that?”

Graves licked his lips, and dug his nails into his palms to keep still,

“I have healing powers in my saliva. Comes with the territory.”

The boy blinked and then looked over to him,

“What? Are you the devil?”

Graves smirked,

“Not exactly. Are you feeling all right? You’ll need some fluids in you. Water and probably something with some decent amounts of iron in it. Let me know if you want to lie down.”

The boy nodded, already looking pale in the cheeks where normally Graves suspected he’d be red as a cherry.

“Okay. Don’t try to walk, I’ll carry you.”

He weighed almost nothing anyway, but when he felt the boy curl against his chest while in his arms, something inside him seemed to shift into place, and he tried not to think too hard about how much he loved the feel of him.

The boy slowly sipped at a glass of cool, not cold water, as Graves danced around the kitchen, preparing a simple meal of pan grilled steak and vegetables, with a couple slices of toast and butter.

Naturally he didn’t eat a thing, he just watched as the boy did, slowly, and he could see his eyes starting to flutter closed between bites.

“You want to go lay down now?”

The boy nodded, before suddenly jerking his head back up, eyes widening in horror,

“What’s going to happen when Ma comes home and I’m not there?”

Graves sighed,

“I suspect you’ll be the least of her worries. I had to cut the power to get into your house. Besides, if she tries to come looking over here, I can just send her away with the flick of a finger.”

He winked at the boy, and he swore there was a hint of a blush in his cheeks, before he ducked his head down and took another bite, nodding slightly.

“How long can I stay with you?”

Graves considered, even as he knew the boy was waiting with bated breath,

“As long as you want. I won’t be here much longer, it’s been almost two weeks, and that’s about as long as I can put up with… so there will be a change of scenery, you know?”

The boy blinked at him, and he could almost see the wheels inside his head turning, trying to figure out everything, to guess his secrets.

“Why wouldn’t you stay here? Don’t you like this house?”

Graves chuckled,

“It’s not about that. I move on, and someone else will come rent it out, and I’ll still make money. I have about a dozen places across the country. I like to switch it up often.”

The boy gaped at him,

“How can you afford that… just working security?”

Graves smirked,

“It’s not all I do, and it’s not all I’ve ever done. Let’s just say I’ve more than enough to be comfortable.”

The boy was shaking his head, mumbling almost to himself,

“What do you want with someone like me? I’m no one.”

Graves sighed, and stepped around to put his arms around the boy’s shoulders, feeling him tense up,

“You’re more than you could know. I see potential in people. Like an aura that surrounds them. I can see that you’re different than most. You’re going to be something great. I’d love to help you achieve that.”

“But…”

He squeezed his hand over the boy’s shoulder, effectively silencing him.

“No. Enough of that. Come on now, you need your rest.”

The boy melted into his arms again as he carried him back upstairs and tucked him into his bed.

After all, he didn’t need to sleep; beds were mainly for show, and other things…

He didn’t really know what to do though, sitting and staring at the boy as he slept certainly veered into the creepy behavior category, never mind the fact he’d already allured him into a one night stand of sorts, and the boy couldn’t even remember a minute of it.

Now he was planning to run away with him, like his little partner in crime or something.

Sun would be good for the boy, but less so for him, as he considered places to go, he kept coming back to Maine. Far enough north to have longer nights, but close enough to the coast that he could take the boy to the ocean anytime he wanted.

The only thing he was concerned about was his truck dying halfway there, but he didn’t want to have to fly them both, too much danger of his fake ID’s not holding up, damned all the increased security.

By the time he’d worked everything out, including a car swap two states over, he could hear the woman next door freaking out as she discovered the blood in the bathroom and the lack of her son.

He wondered what sort of story she’d think up for her lovely church friends, and he watched from behind the curtain as she walked around the living room so much he would have gotten dizzy if he’d been a mere mortal.

He got bored of that eventually and decided to go check on the boy, who was sleeping soundly, curled up into himself, hands pressed together beneath his cheek, looking a bit like an angel in the care of the devil. How apt.

Graves crept closer and knelt beside the bed, stretching out a hand to stroke over the boy’s face, happy to note that the pallor of his skin had warmed considerably; as his body continued to reproduce the blood he’d lost.

He’d been a little worried at first, at the sight of so much blood that the boy would need the hospital, but he’d gotten lucky.

That was just… so him.

The boy was like Graves’ little lucky charm.

“I hope you can be free with me.”

He murmured, lifting his hand to run his finger through the boy’s messy bangs, thumb rubbing over his forehead, smoothing the wrinkles that might have been from distressing dreams.

Though he couldn’t sleep himself, he decided it wouldn’t hurt to be a comforting presence for the boy when he woke, so he climbed atop the covers, and curved his body around the boy, wrapping an arm possessively, around his waist and breathing in a lungful of his scent.

Safe, and happy, and healed, without a touch of _lure_ , he smelled incredible.

*

Credence came to with a pair of cool lips pressing against his skin, and he gasped, remembering where he was and how he’d gotten there.

“Sir!”

The man looming over him chuckled, and then nipped his teeth over his jaw line before kissing it better, eventually landing on his own lips, and Credence could feel a hand sliding between his legs, a firm pressure through his pants rubbing over his cock.

“Good morning little one. Would you like to join me in the shower?”

Credence gulped, as the hand moved harder over him, and his hips nearly bucked against it before he could stop himself,

“You want me to do that?”

“Mhm, yes please.”

Seeing the man completely naked so soon after being woken up was better than a strong cup of coffee, Credence decided. He could feel his cheeks flaring heat as he took off his own clothing, and he was grateful that the man went first, so he wouldn’t have to see Credence’s ruined back.

Taking the man’s hand, he followed him into the shower beneath water that was barely hot enough to sting on his back, but before he could move or turn away, he felt the man kissing along the line of his shoulders, hands firm and steady on his hips. He froze, and considered praying, unsure what the man would say.

“Let me heal these for you.”

Credence swallowed thickly,

“Okay.”

He didn’t ask how, but there was a sting and then the warmth of the man’s lips and tongue over every cut he knew was from the belt.

Only a few minutes had passed he suspected, but it felt like they had been in the shower for an eternity, before the man shifted him to turn and face him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Better?”

Credence nodded.

“Glad I could help you. Would you like to help me?”

Credence licked his lips, two seconds before the man put a hand to his cheek, and rubbed a thumb against his bottom lip.

“Yes sir. How?”

“Get on your knees for me, please.”

Credence blinked up at the man from the tiles, now warmed from the constant hot water, and nuzzled his cheek into his closest thigh, and the man carded a hand through his hair, his other hand stroking his own cock,

“Can you kiss me here?”

Credence’s heart beat was pounding in his chest and thundering in his ears, but he nodded again.

It felt so strange, but so familiar, like out of his darkest most sinful dreams, as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the head of the man’s cock, and opened them to press his tongue against the tip, and he felt the man shudder against him.

“Sweet thing, you’re doing perfectly.”

Credence wanted to beam at him, but instead he moved even closer, letting the man’s cock slide further towards his throat, and he lifted a hand to touch himself, while his other hand kept him steady on the man’s thigh.

He closed his eyes and felt the hand in his hair tightening, as the man spoke in a low moan,

“I’m going to come, do you want to move back?”

Credence shook his head minutely, and sucked a bit harder, and felt the man shift his hips, pressing almost near enough to choke him, but not quite.

The water from the shower was deflected by the man standing in front of it, so that he could open his eyes and watch the way his muscles flexed and his jaw dropped when he came, hot spurts hitting the back of his throat.

There was barely a moment for him to recover and try to stand, before the man was pulling him up, and wrapping his arms around him, kissing him so fiercely he wondered if he could taste himself on Credence’s tongue.

When he pulled back and pressed his forehead to Credence’s,

“What did I do to deserve you?”

He smiled dreamily,

“I think that’s my line.”

* * *

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy this while i go make my podfic.
> 
>  
> 
> and yes, credence is as old as he looks in the graphic, and now we have subverted the boy scout au with age gaps. oops.


End file.
